Déjà Vu
by sugarhighnutjob
Summary: This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to be home. Not here, helping their future selves defeat an enemy whom they thought they had already slain. [Adventure cast, meet your Zero Two selves...]
1. Prologue

**Déjà vu**

* * *

**Summary: This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to be home. Not here, helping their future selves defeat an enemy whom they thought they had already slain. **

* * *

**Prologue**

"Goodbye!"

Those words… They had been repeated countless times as they waved goodbye to their partners. No: their friends.

They were given a promise of going home. Back home: to comfy beds and parents; to schools and studies that you always thought were useless; to comforts that you always took for granted. Back home: away from the chaos of monsters and away from Dark Masters and ultimate enemies. Away from their digital friends.

Their goodbyes had been painful. Yet there were promises that they would return and once more see their friends. Somehow, those promises were hard to believe. The older Chosen had said goodbye as if forever. They thought it was forever. The believed it was forever. They were wrong. She knew they were wrong. If kismet had let them meet, then kismet would reunite them once more. Then they could meet once more. Then there would be no more tears and goodbyes because they could always come back.

She hoped it was true.

He hoped the same.

The two had made a promise to their partners that they would return. Or at least he did. She knew she was coming back to the joyous place.

Tailmon had seemed skeptical to her claim and held the whistle to close, as a reminder of her. Patamon, naïve as Takeru, had believed him.

They boarded the trolley. They waved and cried as it floated up to the eclipse. The waved and cried and curled up to each other. They cried and waved and confided in each other. They had changed. They had grown up. They were friends. True friends.

So as the bus soared through the sky, they cried. Even strong Taichi whose chocolate eyes were brimming with tears that rolled over caramel skin. Even cool Yamato whose sapphire eyes never looked lighter than they did now while crystal tears ran down his sharp features. Mature Jyou whose glasses were dotted as if cold rain had fallen on them. Motherly Sora whose tears fell from ruby eyes and soaked already dampened gloves. Composed Koushiro who guarded his laptop from the drip-drops that trailed down his cheeks. Sensitive Mimi who sobbed quietly as memories ran through her mind. And of course little Takeru and Hikari who hugged their respective big brothers just hoping their promises weren't short lived.

And the trolley soared, the sound of metal cutting through air and the occasional tick of a rusty door hinge creaking as the door beat against the bus drowned out by children's sobs of both joy and pain.

Until a bright light -piercing white yet unusually cool- engulfed the vehicle and the bus came to a halt.

The sobs subsided. There was silence. Until the children stepped out of the bus.

They held their breath and closed their eyes uncertain of what might happen. They grasped their digivices tightly in sweaty palms. Then: the 'swoosh' of the automated door opening; the blast of warm air flooding their sense. And only one dared to step out and beckoned the others to follow.

They did so and breathed in the unusually fresh air. Inhaled the sweet aroma of the world. Opened their eyes.

And gasped.

They weren't home.

They were in the exact same place.

Still in the Digimon world. Still not home. Still in a place of danger.

A Seadramon lurched out towards them, threatening roar echoing through out their souls. The serpent paused, in mid air- half submerged and twisted into a ready position to strike. It's golden head turned up towards the sun and another growl echoed through their souls. Its head did not face them. It was turned half to the side as it dipped through the water.

They stood, dumb-founded and afraid. Their skin pale and their palms sweating. Their digivices were useless without partners. The same went for the crests within them. They held their breath hoping that the serpent would ignore them.

The Seadramon lurched once more, diving into the water and whipping its tail. It leaped up but not towards them and them steadied. It twisted its body to a strike position and turned its huge lumbering head towards the children. For a moment the serpent's eyes, cold to them, met with the varying shades of the chosen.

Time froze and the serpents labored breath was head through the silence. The serpent whipped its tail aimlessly through the cold water and droplets of it slammed onto the Chosen's faces.

The Seadramon roared once more turning its head towards them. Glaring at them distastefully. The Chosen really did try to move. They really did try to run. Every instinct in their bodies told them to do so. The things that told them when to stay and fight; the things that told them to run when it was appropriate to do so. Everything said to do so.

But their bodies resisted the urge to do so and they stood: as pale as sheets, as cold as ice and as still as statues.

They weren't home.

Still in the Digimon world. Still not home. Still in a place of danger.

And this time there were no partners to defend them.


	2. Tachikawa Is The Name

**Déjà Vu**

**Summary: This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to be home. Not here, helping their future selves defeat an enemy whom they thought they had already slain. **

**Chapter 1: Tachikawa Is The Name**

The Seadramon growled softly. A familiar white glow consumed it and the Chosen, finally granted the ability to move, they cringed at the sharp flash.

They turned and looked as the lumbering creature shrank and reshaped. Why was this so familiar? The glowing mass had a long fin jutting out from a frog-like base. Much like that of a shark but less sharp, instead more rounded. The frog-like body of the glowing mass had legs that were oddly shot and stubby with one giant claw at the end of each limb (four in total).

The creature stopped glowing and a small amphibious creature with two big red eyes that hardly looked threatening and was green and blue with a large red fin shooting up from its back. It blinked once and turned towards the other side of the lake.

"Michael! Michael!" the small Digimon wailed, "Michael! There are people here! I think they're lost!"

"Hang on, Betamon! I'll be there soon!" another voice from across the lake wailed, "_I _can't swim across!"

The creature –Betamon- blinked.

"My name is Betamon. What's yours?" Betamon said a bit shyly.

The Chosen remained silent, confused and a bit taken a back by the turn of events.

Koushiro nudged Taichi towards Beatmon, gesturing not to be rude.

"Well… Uh…" began Taichi.

"Betamon! Where are they?" huffed a blond boy as he ran towards the green Digimon.

He panted and wiped some sweat out of his curly blond hair, cut neatly above his neck, as he shaded his eyes from the sun. He stood up from his tired crouching position. There was a grin on his face as he smoothed out his T-shirt and greeted the Chosen.

"My name's Michael," he said in Japanese trying to disguise his American accent but failing miserably.

As there was no reply the boy- Michael- frowned and mumbled, "You don't speak Japanese? You _look_ Japanese…"

He was ranting, still in Japanese- mind you. He looked up with cool eyes and spoke once more- but in English.

"I'm Mi-"

"We speak Japanese. We're sorry for not replying," interrupted Taichi, "We were just a little surprised."

"Oh," Michael responded a little disappointed, "I was hoping you spoke English. I'm not that good with Japanese."

"I can tell. My name's Taichi," the brunette smiled, "the short blonde kid is Takeru, that's my sister Hikari, Jyou's the one in the glasses, Yamato is wearing a green shirt, Sora is the one with the hat, Koushiro has a computer with him. Oh, and Mimi is the one in pink."

"Mimi?" inquired Michael, "I have a friend called Mimi. She's from Japan too. Maybe you should be talking to her. She's _tons_ better at the language than me."

The Chosen smiled. This Michael kid seemed friendly enough. Maybe he could get them home. He seemed to know about Digimon.

"Hey, where are your partners? It isn't really safe or nice to go without them," remarked Michael.

Taichi blinked. "Partners?"

"Yeah, don't tell me you don't know about your Digimon partners. You're in the Digimon world!"

"We're still in the Digimon world?" remarked Koushiro as he ran ahead towards Michael who was leading them.

"Yeah, why?"

"We were supposed to be back home in the real world!" wailed Koushiro becoming nervous about his fate.

"Relax! We'll just open a portal to wherever you live. I'm sure one of Mimi's friends from Japan will help," calmed Michael, "Daisuke's a sucker for pretty girls!"

"Who's Daisuke?" asked Takeru.

Yamato merely rolled his eyes at the young boy's rudeness.

"Motomiya Daisuke. He's a chosen child. Like us," answered Michael.

Hikari immediately tugged her brother's short leg. "Big brother! I have a friend named Motomiya Daisuke! Is he a-?"

"Motomiya is a common name, Hikari. So is Daisuke. It's probably a coincidence," smiled her brother.

"Oh. Okay."

They walked along the lake, the soil seemed drier than it was when they left a few minutes ago and the surroundings seemed more battered and worn.

The Chosen's legs were used to long marches, be it in the baking sun or dry cold. Their feet were their main method of transportation, after all. Their eyes scanned the surroundings that were almost identical to those they had once seen. The long march gave them enough time to examine Michael.

He was American that much was certain. Blond curly hair that looked nothing like the golden shades worn on Yamato or Takeru. It seemed soft in texture, almost bouncy. Every stand looked fine in thickness. His face had sharp, pronounced features that seemed to have once belonged to an American movie star but shrank down and altered to fit the rounder face of a child. His skin was lightly flushed showing he had obviously been sprinting towards them. His wore a light green T-shirt, darker green in places and a pair of jeans that looked like actual authentic denim and not cotton dyed to look like it. His hands were neatly placed at his sides and he was humming an American pop song they had never heard.

How could this boy be so calm when the world had nearly ended? Wasn't he freaked out in the slightest? How did he get here? Why wasn't he helping in the battle against Apocalymon? What was going on?

"So… You just left your partners here?" questioned Michael, slanting his eyes.

"We were coming back! We promised to come back!" piped up little Takeru smiling.

Michael relaxed slightly, glad that these people were not cruel, "So which Digimon _are_ your partners. That is, if you don't mind me asking."

The Chosen smiled, happy that they could grant his request.

"Ever seen an Agumon? He's my partner! The orange dinosaur and I make a killer team!" gloated Taichi, old tendencies returning.

"My partner's a Patamon! He can pack a real punch, you know!" said Takeru.

"Tailmon," said Hikari.

"Piyomon," said Sora proudly.

"Tentomon."

"Gabumon."

"Gomamon."

"Palmon."

At the mention of Palmon Michael turned his head to face the hunny-eyed girl and smiled while still walking.

"You and my Mimi have a lot in common," Michael remarked.

Koushiro frowned in confusion. " 'My Mimi'? Are you dating her?"

Michael blushed rapidly, "No! No way! I mean she's a great girl and all but I… It's just…"

"Don't worry," Yamato chuckled, "No need to tell us."

The group laughed.

It was laughter they hadn't heard in a while and the smiles were wide on their faces. For the first time in weeks, the Chosen Children felt truly normal.

Michael had stopped and gestured to a girl wearing a short white skirt and a Blue and red T-shirt a yellow star on top of the striped pattern. Her hair was cut in curtains and was dyed pink with yellow stars dotted through out; her honey-colored eyes looked strangely familiar.

She put her hand forward and smiled with a smile resembling the Mimi they knew well, "It's nice to meet you."

Her voice was gentle, comforting and slightly deep. She looked about fourteen but sounded more mature and motherly, "My name's Tachikawa Mimi."


	3. Meet Mimi, Mimi

_**It's a somehow disappointing. Mimi and Michael seem awfully naïve and so do the Chosen Children. The whole thing is frightfully boring. I hate transitional chapters. Don't worry, the next one is a whopper… compared to the other two!**_

**Déjà Vu**

**Summary: This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to be home. Not here, in helping their future selves defeat an enemy whom they thought they had already slain.**

**Chapter 2: Meet Mimi, Mimi.**

"Ta- Tachikawa?" eleven-year-old Mimi stuttered to a fourteen-year-old version of her self.

Big Mimi shrugged and nodded but as her eyes examined exactly who the people Michael claimed were lost were she paled.

"That's… that's my name."

"Oh my god," they both gasped.

"You're me!"

"I knew you looked familiar! You were the children who defeated that _huge_ Digimon _three_ years ago!" exclaimed Michael his excitement caused him to revert back to English but he soon realized it and slowly reverted back to Japanese making his sentence sound odd and highly accented, the structure of the words not following the grammatical laws of either language.

"How… How is it possible for you to be here? When I… I mean you… I mean we… When _I_ boarded the trolley I was taken back home to the real world!" Big Mimi cried out, wildly gesturing her arms in the air.

"I find this quite… puzzling," said Koushiro, trailing off in thought.

"Okay, first off, what happened before you got on that trolley?" Big Mimi asked slowly.

"We said good bye to our partners and… said goodbye to our partners," replied Taichi a little too fast.

Older Mimi was soon tugged back by Michael.

"What the hell are you doing!" he hissed.

"Helping them," she replied simply.

Michael tugged his hair and dragged her behind a near by tree, fresh with digital moss.

"Don't you get it! This entire thing is _insane_!" he wailed, flailing his arms in the air.

Mimi crossed her arms and stared at him, blankly. "I know it sound totally unreal but I know she's me. I can just tell…"

"Intuition?"

"You can call it that if you want. It's just… When I look into her eyes, it's like a mirror. When I look into their eyes, I remember those times. "

"Mimi… I never knew…"

She placed a hand on his shoulder, "You don't have to, Michael. Just help them. They're the same people you met. If not a little younger."

"For you, Mimi," he said, "I'll do it. Daisuke's not the only one who's a sucker for pretty girls."

Mimi swatted his head lightly.

"Hey what was that for?"

She giggled ushering him back to the young Chosen.

Older Mimi turned her head. "C'mon, you guy's."

Older Mimi began to walk away gesturing them to follow.

"Hey! Where are we going!" exclaimed Taichi, a little afraid.

She turned, ushering them towards Michael. "You're going home. I hope."


	4. Recaps And Reintroductions I

**_In order ot make up for the horrible fillerness of the last chapter, here's the next one. It's up quick._**

_**AN: FYI this takes place immediately after the last episode of Adventure 02. I refuse to say Season 2 just because. I apologize for the phrase 'ear type thing' but the mood desperately needed to be lightened. At least to me it did.**_

**_This chapter is a real whopper now. I really didn't think it would end up this long. Oh well, gives you more to read. I can't help but feel that this chapter is somewhat choppy, though. I really need to work on transitions scenes. And the relavation of the Chosen seems oddly disappointing. I suppose that's because no one really believes its true. _**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. Okay? I don't! **_

**Déjà Vu**

**Summary: This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to be home. Not here, in helping their future selves defeat an enemy whom they thought they had already slain.**

**Chapter 3: Re-caps And Reintroductions I**

Michael guided seven of the Chosen- Mimi had taken Mimi somewhere else for a reason neither Michael nor the time-displaced knew- to a rendezvous point created so the Chosen of the world could travel back home. This point was not headed towards Japan but as Yamato and Hikari were manning the portal here to India, Michael thought the current Chosen could calm the past chosen.

At the moment Michael was slowly striding at a pace those following were finding painful. Michael's thoughts were contemplating on what to call the eleven-year-old Yamato and what to call the fourteen-year-old one. Then he wondered what the eleven-year-old Yamato would call his fourteen-year-old self. Needless to say the whole thing was one big grammatical nightmare.

Seven of the eight Chosen stepped up towards the two figures leaning against a tree stump. They stared at the oddness of the small television screen perched atop it and wondered how it was functioning without a power source.

The male blonde figure sighed and murmured something to the female brunette. She replied with a meek smile and another sigh. The girl reached for something in her pocket and closed her eyes with one more sigh.

"Tailmon!" the brunette called.

"Gabumon!" called the blonde.

There was a rustling in the over-head leaves and a white cat zipped down from the branches into the girls lap. Next, an odd yellow creature clad in a striped blue fur coat waddled up to the blond.

Little Yamato and Hikari gasped.

Michael cleared his throat; Big Yamato and Hikari turned towards him.

"Yamato, Hikari," began Michael, a little feebly, "Meet yourselves, three years ago."

The older Yamato's eyes widened in horror as did the older Hikari's.

"This… This is a joke, right?" stuttered big Yamato with a nervous laugh that was clearly forced.

"Actually, no. This is serious, Yamato," calmed stated Michael.

Yamato laughed loudly, sarcasm wringing from his voice. ""Seriously, Michael, you can stop the joke now. You can stop this_ cruel, cruel _joke now."

"Yamato," said Hikari, "I think this _is real."_

"No… You must be imagining things because this can not happen!"

Young Taichi leaned over to young Yamato and whispered in his ear in a voice that was intended to be heard. "Future you can't handle stress any better than current you can."

Big Yamato blinked. The Taichi look-a-like was clad in the exact same attire he had: the same blue T-shirt; the same shorts that were a color he could never really place. But the startling thing was that the goggles that rested on the mop of bird's nest hair were identical to the ones he had seen his friend wear. The same odd chip at the corner of the frame over the left eyes; the same scratches and scuffs on the lenses- intentionally created with a key in order to gain some 'street cred' and worn rubber strap that tapered off slightly round the front.

"Then… Then…" stuttered Yamato. "You're us."

"How is this possible?" said the older Hikari.

"Well, we don't know. Didn't this happen to you?" said Michael.

"NO!" wailed Yamato and Hikari in equally shocked tones.

"So what do we do?" asked Michael meekly.

"Koushiro, any ideas?" older Yamato inquired.

Koushiro didn't respond, a little confused to which Koushiro he was referring to. That is, until he realized there was no other Koushiro there at the time. He began to stutter as he tried to formulate some sort of plan.

"I guess you really are me-us- whatever," Younger Yamato stood awe struck at the sight of the older him. He had grown up to be quite the looker.

"Guess so, Yamato," older Yamato replied in his trademark cool demeanor.

There was a pause as each Ishida examined each other highly. One reminiscing find memories of the past, the other wondering what his future could possibly hold.

"Yamato?" asked Big Hikari.

"Yeah?" both Yamatoes replied.

"I meant older 'Mato, not younger one," said Hikari.

Young Yamato blushed furiously.

"Let's talk…"

**Digital Gate to America**

"C'mon, guys! You're late enough as it is! Hurry it up a bit!" wailed Daisuke, waving his arms around furiously.

"Sorry, Daisuke. Tortomon and I accidentally saw another Tortomon peeing," said Lou meekly.

Daisuke sighed, "Don't worry. Happened to me once. It's a long story."

Lou shrugged and held out his digivice, the white light erupting from the television.

Daisuke sighed as the digi-gate closed. Those were all the American Chosen Children.

He sighed and fell onto the soft grass. Thankful for the scenic spot he closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh air. It was untainted by any factory waste or car fumes. The first time he had smelt it, the air seemed odd and stench filled. Now he realized it was clean and pure. As he began to nap- rightfully so, he had just saved the world!- he scratched his nose absent-mindedly and patted the soft earth.

**_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! _**

He stirred at the mechanical monotone alert of his D-Terminal. He groaned and flipped it on. Reading the message lazily.

_**To: Daisuke**_

_**From: Hikari**_

_**Meeting!**_

_Meet us at the India gate. This is very important! Don't be late!_

Blinking he quickly typed a response.

_**To: Hikari**_

_**From: Daisuke**_

_**RE: Meeting!**_

_Be there as soon as I can. Just got to find V-mon._

He flipped down the Terminal lid stood up. "V-mon!"

A blue dragon poked its head out of the bushes.

"V-mon! We're meeting everyone at the India gate. The one Hikari is manning," said the boy running a hand through his spiky hair as he began to walk off.

"Daisuke! Wait for me!"

**Near Digi-gate to India**

" Yamato… Yamato-san…" said older Hikari, "Don't you have a plan, Yamato-san?"

Yamato looked at her with an apologetic gaze.

"The- The best we can do now is meet up with the others and think of something then."

The girl sighed, pushing back a lock of brown hair only to have it fall back to her face. "Yamato, what if they never get home?"

Her question was oddly pessimistic, cold tones laced the cryptic words as a look of concern spread across her soft features. He inwardly sighed, closing his eyes, breathing in air that somehow held memories in its fresh scent. His sharp features twisted as he winced.

"I don't know."

She turned towards him, fiddling with the strap of her digital camera; biting her lip.

"So they're just stuck here? Forever?"

He didn't want to answer. He really didn't.

Thankfully he wouldn't have to. At least for this moment.

"Guys! Guys! Why'd you call?" asked Daisuke as he ran up towards them.

Yamato turned towards Hikari. "You called him?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring his discomfort about one of the newer Chosen helping the situation. "You said call everyone."

Yamato sighed once more fixing his gaze onto Daisuke. "Has anyone else arrived?"

The younger boy blinked in confusion before replying, "No. Not yet."

"Then you can wait like the rest of them," the blonde stated icily.

"I am just as much of a Chosen Child as _you _are Yamato. If you think you're better than-" the spiky haired youth said, offended.

Hikari silenced him with a placing of her hand on his shoulder. "Not now, Daisuke. Go find the others._ Don't_ go near the Digi-Gate, either."

"Fine," he scoffed, turning around.

When the redhead finally left Yamato looked up with his azure orbs. His piercing gaze was filled with confusion, his voice aggravated. "Why did you call him? Before the seniors?"

"He's still a Chosen, Yamato," she replied coolly, obviously disappointed in him.

"I know… I'm sorry. I just… it's not everyday you see yourself right there."

An awkward silence ensued; Yamato kicked the ground.

"Let's go, Hikari."

**Digi-Gate to India**

Daisuke grumbled as he trudged around the lake, not really trying to find the other Chosen. It was not fair. He had just saved the world! He was key in saving the world! Why did Yamato still to this to him? Daisuke snuck up behind a tree near the gate.

_If they won't tell me, I'll find out myself…_

He turned his head round slightly, V-mon tugging at his shirt.

"Daisuke, I thought Yamato and Hikari told you to look for the others?" the blue digimon whined.

"Not now, V-mon. I'm gonna find out what they're hiding from me…"

He shuffled around the tree, the rough bark grazing his jacket. Finding a good, unobstructed view he knelt down and peeked out. He was greeted to the sight of eight children that looked oddly familiar and Michael.

Michael was pacing the ground, hands in pockets, a look of seriousness etched onto his face. The other eight children composed of three girls and five boys. Most of them looked to be about ten or eleven but the two youngest only looked about seven or eight. Why were they so familiar?

"Who are they?" he whispered to himself.

"Us," replied Yamato rather flatly, appearing from nowhere and scaring the daylights out of him.

Daisuke sighed. Wiping a bead of perspiration from his forehead with his –also sweaty- palms. He smiled slightly. "Funny, Yamato. _Real _funny. Seriously, who _are_ they?"

The blonde raised a brow causing the younger boy to cock his head.

"Us," he said simply.

"Yamato, stop fooling around," Daisuke said getting more annoyed by the second, "those children are probably lost! Who are they?"

The blonde a raised brow once more, piercing gaze adverted to the eight children. He looked at them rather wistfully, clenching his jaw. He shut his eyes for a moment taking in the cool air as if he were taking a long drag on a cigarette. He left his lids half-open, all the time leaving his gaze firmly on the children. His eagle eyes gave away his day dreaming mind. Memories seemed to swell in his mind.

"Like I said," he remarked coolly, still not facing Daisuke, "they're us."

The younger child shook his head. "But you're right here."

The blonde pinched the bridge of his nose, taking one more deep drag of fresh air. "They're us. Three years ago."

Daisuke frowned in confusion.

"This is why we told you not to go near here," said Hikari, emerging from the bushes.

"Aagh!" he wailed, "How do you do this? How are they-?"

"Not now, Daisuke. Just- Just not now," said Yamato coldly. His expression softened. "Keep the rest of the juniors out of this. For now, anyway."

The maroon haired boy stepped backwards slowly, turning backwards, slightly afraid of the seniors harsh words. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. Could it? He shook his head. _Yamato must have become delusional after all the stress._ Yes, that must have been it. Where was V-mon? He scanned the trees for his partner. It could not be _that_ hard to find a blue dragon in a forest of green. He kicked the dirt with his shoe only to find his foot come to a grinding stop. He looked down, his eyes greeted to the sight of a sleeping V-mon, his foot wedged between the dragon's back and the dirt.

V-mon had a right to be tired. Being Imperialdramon in Fighter form and saving the world took it out of a digimon. The boy smiled at his sleeping partner.

"V-mon! Get up!" he bellowed into his partner's… ear type thing.

V-mon woke up with a stutter to a smirking Daisuke. The blue creature frowned at his partner, grumbling.

"Come on, V-mon. We have to find the others."

V-mon groaned.

**Yamato and Hikari**

As stressful as the situation was, he refused to pace the ground in circles like a puppy chasing its tail. Yamato simply refused to be that cliché. Michael, on the other hand, was prone to little common quirks and had carved out a shallow moat through kicking and pacing the ground. Betamon had tried to keep up with him but the teen was pacing so quickly his partner soon retired to watching the boy break out in cold sweat.

Yamato chose to preserve his dignity and energy. So he let Little Yamato catch up with Gabumon. So what if he had left his partner to baby sit himself? His jeans and sleeveless turtleneck- he still wondered today where he had found that shirt- clad self was perfectly happy catching up with an old friend. Besides, either pf them would rather not confront or converse with each other. It would never stop being awkward talking to your own self.

Big Yamato sighed. The fresh air was his new addiction. It was, by far, healthier than any cigarette or drug and completely legal. It was even healthy! Through out all his adventures through the strange land he had never really notched the scent of the air around him. It was different in every part of the Digimon World but his favorite kind was here, in the forests near the lake. The intoxicating fresh scent brought an untainted pleasure to him.

"So you're really Yamato, Yamato?"

He turned his head to the origin of the voice. An eight-year-old Hikari was standing before him, in awe of how much he had changed. He nodded in an attempt to answer the obvious question and not appear to be rude. He'd rather not have his young self know he would turn out to be. He was perfectly comfortable with who he was but somehow he didn't want the surprise to be ruined for himself.

She looked at him. Just looked at him. Not really staring or gazing but just… looking. Innocent observation.

"How much time has passed?"

Yet again, her oddly pessimistic question sent shivers down his spine.

She was a smart girl. That much was obvious. She had obviously deducted they were in the future. She looked slightly remorseful; afraid of living in the reality they had been placed in. He shivered as a cold wind glided through, blowing strands of blonde hair into his eyes. Did he really want to so this? Did he really want to break the truth to this girl? To Hikari? All of them had been through so much. They had been deleted and were reformed through sheer force of will. They had saved the world. They were promised home. He bit his lip; the wind howled louder and louder. Diverting his gaze to the image of himself under the shade with Gabumon he sighed.

He had already let her down once. Three years ago when Vamdemon attacked Odaiba. He was meant to keep her safe. He was supposed to reassure her. In the end, the only words he had spoken to her were of his doubt in her brother, in his friend, and she had turned herself in to protect _him_.

At long last he turned to face her.

"Three years."

The statement hardly seemed to affect her at first. She denied it in her mind. How could three years have passed if she had only boarded the trolley twenty minutes ago? Not even an hour. She bit her lip, wincing. He half expected tears to fall from her face.

"Thank you."

He paused. He had just shattered her world. Why was she thanking him? Why would she possibly thank the person that had reassured her that the world she lived in had fast-forwarded three years? His breath grew heavy as he stared at her. Only innocence stared back.

She smiled at him. A tiny smile, barely noticeable and only placed there as not to appear rude. "Thank you for telling the truth."

He faltered. His gaze was wide eyed. She turned round slowly. He desperately wanted to comfort her. He wanted to reach out and just say: "I'm sorry." He pushed away the thought. That was her brother's job.

What was being a brother? He looked over to little Takeru. Why wasn't past him taking care of his brother? Younger Yamato was talking to Gabumon. Mumbling by the looks of it. Big Yamato strode over and sat down next to little Takeru. The older blonde sighed. "You okay?"

Little Takeru looked up, studying the feature of much older brother. "No. Not really."

The brothers studied other, their eyes locked into an intense gaze. Yamato finally felt like a real older brother.

"Hey! What are doing to my brother?"

"Our brother," Big Yamato corrected, "You shouldn't be so edgy. He's my brother too."

Young Yamato glared at his older self. He was obviously suspicious of the strangers that claimed to be him. Both of them were. Somehow, older Yamato truly believed that this was himself. He could see it in his own eyes- if that made sense in any way. Young Yamato ushered little Takeru away, slanting his eyes. Older Yamato sighed. He though he had changed after the defeat of Apocalymon. Then again, he had a perfectly good reason to be a little suspicious. The older blonde really believed his younger self knew who they were. This whole situation was a grammatical _nightmare._

Big Yamato sighed and stepped out of the chaos. Leaning against a broad tree he inhaled a deep drag of air. He was so engrossed with the clean air that he hardly noticed a hand lay itself on his shoulder.

"Yamato? What's up?" said Taichi.

"All the seniors here?" Yamato inquired cautiously.

"Yeah," the brunette replied, "What's up?"

The blonde turned his head, gesturing to eight children that looked oddly familiar.

"No way."

**Daisuke and Co.**

How long had he been walking? Yes he had found all the juniors (bar Takeru who he thought should be there) but what was he going to do now? Daisuke sighed running a hand through his hair.

A beeping from his D-Terminal interrupted his train of thought.

_**To: Daisuke**_

_**From: Taichi**_

_**Rendezvous **_

_You and the others can come and meet us at the India Gate._

That was it? He had stalled, gathered and paced for _that_?

_Must be a real surprise, _he thought.

"Guys, come on! We're meeting the others!" he called.

**Taichi and Co.**

Taichi's chocolate eyes scanned his surroundings. More specifically: himself. How this was possible, he didn't know. He paced the ground in a manner Yamato found rather cliché. He looked up, staring aimlessly into the forest.

"Guys! We're here! What's up?" called Daisuke, running up to the seniors with Ken, Miyako and Iori.

"Those children," said Taichi, gesturing with his head, "They're us. From the past."

"Three years ago to be more specific," added Koushiro with a tone of seriousness.

"Come on," said Taichi dismissively, "We have to meet Mimi."

Iori cocked an eyebrow, still walking. Was this really true?

He looked at them. Really looked at them, analyzing them.

_The Digital world changed them,_ he deducted. That is, if they were really them. They did not look like carefree children. They seemed to carry some sort of duty, a burden of sorts. There was an unspoken maturity to their manners. He would have guessed their speech had a 'thought over' tone. The way they walked: it wasn't a proud sort of strut but it carried some sort of dignified yet it was at a pace that seemed to make them appear to be hiding. Their footsteps were soft on the hard earth- gentle plops like dripping water into mud but lacked the horrible squelch.

But the thing about them that really gave them away were their eyes. Iori turned his head to look at the sapphires of the Takeru he knew and compared them to the eight-year-old who tugged at his bag strap as it dug into his shoulder. The elder Takeru was smiling in an attempt to lighten the mood. The younger blonde gave a meek smile now and again, uncomfortable in this far off future.

The blue eyes were identical but the elder's carried a more hazy maturity within them. The young's was filled with beams of optimism, albeit dampened. Elder tapped young's shoulders and gave a warm but meek smile that seemed to calm young down. Young recognized that smile as his own. Though changed through age and adapted to a now squarer jaw he recognized the curve of the lips, the way his eyes lit up involuntarily and the rounded soft lips.

Iori paused but continued walking, all the time comparing the younger seniors to their current selves. Taichi had certainly grown a bit. His hair had grown even bigger and sat rebelliously on his head and by some strange stroke of luck, manage to keep out of his tan face. Iori had often wondered how Hikari could be so pale in comparison to her brother.

Hikari just shot up like a rocket. Takeru shot up more, though. Younger Hikari was a good two inches taller than younger Takeru. Her hair wasn't cut much differently, perhaps even shorter than before. However, the whistle that he had heard of, meant to be hanging from her neck was absent. She tugged, absent mindedly, at her long yellow shirt.

Yamato seemed to have used substantial amounts of hair-gel in the past. The young one's blond locks were gelled immaculately in a wind-swept way, spiked around in a manner that seemed too complicated to even think of doing. Iori was never one for complications like that. It was the reason his hair was cut in its neat bowl cut. Yamato almost looked like he had a haircut at some point between those three years until you finally realized that all the gel must have added _some_ volume to it. His new hair was just slicked down a bit. Okay, a lot. Iori still refused to believe the Chosen had a hair cut.

Sora's hair hadn't changed that much- as far as he could tell. That hat was blocking his view. Her red hair curled at the ends, cut rather girlishly when you really thought about it.

Koushiro had cut his hair and certainly had a growth spurt. Young Koushiro's hair looked like it was a wig stuck through an electric socket. It wasn't particularly long but had it fallen straight he would have suspected it to fall somewhere above his neck.

Apparently, Jyou's wavy hair was once cut into a functional side-part, cowlicks appearing occasionally here and there. His old glasses were thick and chunky compared to his new ones. They had a thick brown frame, a bar from the top, lenses etched into the half-frames. He was about to analyze their clothes and dress senses but thinking that to be a little to extreme- even for him- he scanned for any signs of the only Chosen he had not yet seen.

Mimi? Where was Mimi? How could he possibly continue his comparisons without Mimi? What if something bad had happened?

They had already arrived. Iori tilted his head. "Where's Mimi-san?"


End file.
